Legend of the Unforeseen
by Sapphire-Raindrop
Summary: As Aang's glowing eyes widened in pain, as his body was flung into the air for the last time, as a final pulse of power pushed the Fire Nation troops back...all that Monk Gyatso could think was this: We are finished. They have won. Our hope has fallen.
1. Prologue Part 1

Hello all!

I posted this last year, and I never got around to continuing it. I had the basis outlined, and I read through my notes a few days ago, and I just got SO EXCITED FOR IT!

I'm so obsessed with everything related to Avatar: The Last Airbender and Avatar: Legend of Korra, and so I decided to give this story another go!

I've edited the first three parts, and there are some new parts, so if you've read this before, I suggest reading it again to catch those new bits. If you haven't read it, enjoy!

**Important Note: **Although this story is listed under the Legend of Korra fanfiction category, just know that this is an extrmely AU story. It's set a hundred years before the original series (A:TLA), and the only reason I'm putting it under the Legend of Korra name is cuz it stars Korra. That's where the similarities end.

Also, I came up with this story wayyy before Legend of Korra aired, so please don't get in a hissy if Korra isn't the same as she is in the show. This is my AU, so just roll with it.

**_PLEASE REVIEW! _**

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><p><strong>Legend of the Unforeseen<strong>

An _Legend of Korra_ fanfiction

by: Sapphire-Raindrop

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><p><em>Prologue – Part 1<em>

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><p>Monk Gyatso made his way across the stone floor, his robe rustling delicately across the floor as his wise eyes flickered toward the stormy gray sky. The clouds billowed ominously as they cried torrents of rain, and Gyatso hurried onward, his hands holding a plate of sliced moon peach – Aang's favorite snack. Gyatso had left the meeting rather early, knowing that Aang often went for late night flights when he was upset, and wanting to make sure he was safe in his room to wait out the storm.<p>

The old man's face softened when he recalled the sound of Aang's retreating footsteps as he ran from the room in which the Council of Elders had met in order to discuss the boy's fate. Aang had heard that the others wanted to move him to the Eastern Air Temple for further training.

What a foolish thought. Couldn't they see that in order for Aang to progress, he needed to be treated as he was: a child? He was not meant for greatness yet, he needed to mature and grow into his responsibilities before being expected to shoulder the world's complexities.

Gyatso had been able to convince the Elders to give Aang two more years before moving him to another temple, and now he had to speak to Aang before the boy began making assumptions and acting rashly. Gyatso knew the boy well enough to know that if he didn't confront him, Aang would feel betrayed and would most likely avoid him.

Aang was such a straightforward boy, and that was something that Gyatso always cherished in him. He was genuine and kind; he had quietly accepted the fact that the other children felt threatened by him; he had put aside his own unhappiness in favor of keeping the other children comfortable. Gyatso considered Aang his son in all ways but blood, and so to see Aang so withdrawn and stressed always made his chest heavy, as if a weight had been rudely placed there without warning.

Aang's room was on the end of a low stone building, the structure heavy and immobile even in the face of the relentless wind and rain. A sturdy overhang neatly covered a path to the living apartments, and Gyatso breathed in the thick storm air as he moved toward the oaken door labeled as Aang's. The older man heard the sounds of angry rustling inside, and knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

The room was, like all Airbender quarters, simple and clean, with a woven rug made of dyed sky bison wool, a bed and a wooden cabinet resting on the far side. There was a space under the window that was padded with cushions, perfect for sitting and staring out at the wonderful view of the mountains and the valleys below the Southern Air Temple. Aang was sitting on his bed, his eyes fixed on something he was writing, and when Gyatso cleared his throat the boy jumped horribly, his hand instinctively crumpling around the note. Gyatso glanced around to find that Aang had hurriedly packed his belongings, the pack sitting on the windowsill. The man sighed deeply as he set the plate of fruit down on the dresser, and calmly folded his hands in front of him.

"Aang…what are you doing?" he asked, careful to keep his tone unassuming and neutral. Getting accusative would only fuel Aang's obvious feelings of conflict. The young Airbender scowled, angrily tearing up the note with a ferocity that sent a pang of unease into Gyatso's mind. The tiny pieces of white fluttered uselessly to the floor, decorating the floor around Aang's feet.

"They're sending me away! Why are they doing that? And why didn't you even try and stop them?" Aang asked, his voice laced with pain and confusion, blinking rapidly. "It's like you don't care, like we aren't even friends! Running away is all I can do…it's just…"

Aang hurriedly turned away from the older Airbender, scrubbing at his eyes to try and eliminate the watery evidence of his frustration. Gyatso felt his heart go out to the boy, the poor, isolated boy who was already being forced to place his own feelings aside in lieu of becoming what others expected him to be.

_He is still a child_, Gyatso mused, and with a small smile he moved over to where Aang was standing defiantly in the center of the room. Childish enough to believe that running away was the answer to his problems. Gyatso's relief that he had left the meeting early was immeasurable – the monk didn't want to think of what would have occurred if Aang had managed to execute his plan of leaving the temple during the storm.

Wrinkled hands found their comforting place on Aang's shoulders, and silent rivers of tears gushed out of his eyes and onto the boy's ashen cheeks as the weight of the encouraging touch seemed to splinter his firm resolve. Gyatso let the boy cry for a few minutes, doing nothing but holding his shoulders and letting him be weak. Everyone else expected him to be the powerful Avatar, a bender of impossible strength and the one destined to keep peace in the world.

Gyatso knew him as Aang – the boy who often spoke before he thought of the consequences, who loved to play around incessantly, who was eager to learn and easy to love.

Hopefully, the time that Aang needed to put his inner child away wouldn't arrive too soon. Gyatso wanted to see many more years of Aang laughing as he danced atop his sky-bison companion Appa, so many more moments in which Gyatso could do no more than stare as Aang excitedly showed him an impossibly complex Airbending technique. Aang needed to see his power as a gift and privilege, not as something to fear or to feel overshadowed by.

Aang's knees buckled under him, and Gyatso quickly steered the boy to the bed, seating him down and carefully sitting beside him. Aang looked so broken, in the dim light of the night that was shadowed by the rain, forsaking any semblance of restraint, freely sobbing into the silence. In a rare show of affection, Gyatso abandoned all sense of tradition and pulled the boy into a tight embrace.

"I am sorry, Aang, that you were led to believe that I would ever let them separate you from me," Gyatso murmured, and Aang shuddered in his arms, clinging to the man with surprising strength. "I convinced the Council to allow you to remain here, so there is no need to worry. I will be with you for as long as you need me, that I promise you."

The boy nodded shakily into Gyatso's shoulder.

No more words were spoken, but Gyatso could feel the boy's relief and gratitude, and mentally scolded himself for not engaging in this show of affection sooner. It was obvious that Aang had been craving it, which was surprising because Gyatso was usually so accurate in discerning Aang's thoughts.

And so, instead of moving away as was expected of him, Gyatso continued to sit there, holding close the boy that was as close to a son as the monk could ever hope to have.

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><p><em>The peace did not last.<em>

_Exactly four months later, the sky turned the color of freshly spilled blood, a comet soaring slowly across the heavens, like a beacon of death. There is no other way to describe the sight of it, but what followed in its wake inspired a level of fear unknown to me before._

_I was the only one standing on the outermost balcony at the time, and as I result, I was the first to see the hundreds of Firebenders advancing in their metal tanks and sending plumes of smoke and fire into the sky._

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><p>Gyatso rushed through the halls, cuts and bruises littering his body, yells of struggling Airbenders and ruthless Firebenders ringing horribly in the temple halls. Airbender children stumbled around, screaming, and Gyatso watched as several female Airbenders herded them toward the waiting sky bison – there were several caves a few miles away from the temple, they would be safe there until the fighting ceased.<p>

The Fire Nation had finally attacked. Gyatso and the other Elders had sensed this coming for several years – it had been the reason Aang's identity as the Avatar had been revealed to him at twelve, rather than the customary age of sixteen. But they hadn't imagined that the Fire Nation would fight with the intention of eliminating the Air Nomads completely. Gyatso had been confident in Avatar Roku's abilities in containing Fire Lord Sozin's ambitious desires, but it would seem that now Roku was gone, Sozin had decided to go ahead with his plan to conquer more territory for the Fire Nation.

His mind was distracted by the sudden rumble of the ground underfoot, sending several children falling to the ground. The stone pillar beside them began to collapse, large chunks of rock falling toward the dazed youngsters.

"No!" Gyatso yelled, and with a powerful gust of air the old man sent the pillars flying toward a group of Fire Nation soldiers. The old monk helped the children to their feet, and a fellow fighter yelled.

"Where is the Avatar?"

Gyatso shook his head. "Aang is but a child, this is not his battle," he said, his voice calmer than he felt, and with a small push he moved the children around the corner, out of the line of fire.

The other Airbender seemed unconvinced, but was soon attacked by several fire-wielding soldiers, and quickly went silent as he fought to fend them off. The comet had greatly increased the powers of the Firebenders, making them stronger than anyone could ever had imagined. Gyatso turned on his heel, continuing his search while cutting a wide path through enemy lines. Aang had been inside when Gyatso had first seen the soldiers, but that couldn't have stayed same in the time that had passed since then. Where was he now?

The temple shook and Gyatso's hands never ceased as he formed the air to his will, slicing through Firebenders and dodging fireballs. The color of his robes became dulled by the smoke and ash, and his eyes ached and stung from the constant heat.

Time seemed to drizzle past like the summer rain, soft and yet so prominent. Gyatso saw from outside his body as he stepped over limp bodies of both Airbenders and Firebenders, and his throat tightened as he saw the bloodied form of a child – the girl couldn't be more than seven years old.

Min, her name was. She had always giggled and smiled at him when he moved her toys around using Airbending. Her long dark lashes brushed her tear-stained cheeks as Gyatso knelt down next to her limp form, touching the skin of her arm.

It was so cold.

His eyes widened as he realized the awful truth.

She was dead.

Gyatso looked up, and his face was bereft of any mercy. The Fire Nation had gone too far. To fight was one thing, but to fight for nothing but to attain power…to fight in order to eliminate innocents…that was crossing the line. There was no reason to hold back now. Gyatso would fight off this threat, or die trying.

The old monk rose fluidly, and it was in that moment that he spotted Aang. The boy was crouched atop a fallen pyre, his eyes closed and a look of horror etched onto his features. His face was pale and filled with such an ancient fury that Gyatso felt a tingle of unease flare through his heart. Gyatso's eyes trailed down to Aang's hands, and a gasp left him.

There was blood on Aang's hands, spotting his clothes and dripping down his fingers and hitting the pyre with steady, methodical sounds. Gyatso's gasp was loud enough that Aang heard, and sharp eyes opened, snapping to his face.

They were a bright, electric blue. The color was bright and glowing, and yet it held a sense of age that overwhelmed all else. If Aang was in such emotional turmoil that the Avatar State was making itself known – Gyatso remembered seeing Roku's eyes glow that same color when activating his Avatar abilities – then things were even worse than the old monk had imagined.

"Aang, you must control–"

"They're looking for me, Gyatso," Aang said, his voice multi-faceted and holding both female and male voices within its depths. The sound reminded Gyatso of the roar of the ocean, the rumble of a volcano, the powerful bellow of a hurricane, the shaking of the earth. The voice was powerful and awe-inspiring, and yet…he could not bow to it. Aang was still Aang, and Gyatso reached out for him as he moved forward.

"Aang–" Gyatso tried again, but Aang cut him off.

"I have to stop this."

Gyatso watched as Aang stood, and the look in his glowing eyes made Gyatso gasp once more, lunging forward to try and grab the boy's arm, but something strong and powerful pushed him back. It was like a barrier of air, and the Avatar turned to look at him, his expression blank and yet…there was a small token of sympathy in those depths.

"Aang, you cannot win, you're just a child!"

"Yeah, but I'm the Avatar, Gyatso…" Aang whispered, and for the first time, a note of fear entered his voice, but quickly left as the boy straightened. "My job is to keep peace in the world…how can I do that if I run away? If I reveal myself to them as the Avatar…they won't have any reason to target the other Air Nomad temples."

"You need more time!" Gyatso said loudly, his control slipping as he saw the solution forming behind those bright eyes. "Even if you sacrifice yourself–"

Aang was suddenly before him, and Gyatso watched as the boy reached up to cup the older man's face in his warm hands. Gyatso had a flash of Roku's grinning face, along with a line of unfamiliar faces that trailed down an infinite line of glowing eyes and solemn responsibility. Gyatso stumbled back, and Aang smiled, his glowing eyes crinkling in that familiar way of his.

"You told me that you would be with me as long as I needed you. Now, _you _need _me_," Aang gestured toward the dying Airbenders. "and _they _need me. I know that I'm going to die…but if it's for the greater good…that's all that matters."

Gyatso's eyes widened, and Aang moved away, his clothes billowing around him as a tornado of wind bore him into the air. The old monk ran to the edge of the courtyard, yelling up to Aang.

"Don't, Aang–"

But the boy was already gone.

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><p><em>That was the last time I ever spoke to Aang.<em>

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><p>The air was full of energy as the Avatar rose into the air, his face contorting as his hands rose up imperiously, and a wave of earth swept to the side, smashing dozens of enemy ships into the side of the mountain. Yells of pain intermeshed with the roar of the wind as it swept through the temple, impaling Fire Nation soldiers in its wake.<p>

Gyatso watched in horror as the Fire Nation aimed a fire launcher at Aang's unprotected back, and yelled in vain, trying to warn him. No, it couldn't be happening, Aang would hear him, and turn around. Aang was much too young, much too naive, but something would save him. The wisdom of the past Avatars would assist him…they would help him…

The fire was flying swiftly, and Aang was still focusing on sealing off all ways to get to the Airbender children who were running to get to the inner levels of the mountain. He was saving his people, but he wouldn't save himself.

The images were turning hazy now, and Gyatso's voice, stronger than it had ever been before, thundered forth.

"_AANG!_"

The boy turned, his eyes still glowing, his lips parting – what was he trying to say? – as his hands instinctively rose to protect himself.

It was too late.

The fire was so strong – enhanced by the power of the still present comet – that Gyatso could hear it collide with Aang's chest, sending the boy flying. The front part of Aang's robe was burnt in a second, and blood began pouring out of the wound. The smell of burning flesh consumed everything, or perhaps it was only Gyatso's imagination that spurred the smell to travel that quickly through the air.

Those glowing eyes were slowly fading into gray, and Aang's body went limp as it fell toward the earth. But just before he hit the ground with a final and terrible sound of defeat – just before Gyatso let out a keening sob – a hum of energy pulsed from within the boy's body, and swept through the entire temple.

The air was so powerful that it forcibly picked up every single Fire Nation tank, rhino, and surviving Firebender and pushed them out and into open space. The screams quickly died out as they fell toward the earth, and Gyatso looked around to see that the fires had also been effectively extinguished.

The glowing blue energy continued for several miles, before separating into four separate entities, and three of the four sped away faster than Gyatso's eyes could follow. The remaining energy soared upward, surrounding the temple and the mountains surrounding it in a shimmering orb.

A grim silence settled over the Southern Air Temple.

Gyatso ignored all else as he scrambled toward the body of his most beloved student. The monk, limping heavily, skirted heavy boulders and pieces of statues that lay in his path, and finally – what seemed like a century later – Gyatso reached him.

There, still and peaceful even with his body so broken, lay the Avatar.

Gyatso knelt beside the body, his hands trembling as he touched the boy's bloody shoulder. Aang's eyes were slightly open, and his mouth was relaxed and content. But there was no life to those eyes, there wasn't any warmth to his features. Gyatso felt a cloying ache settle between his shoulder-blades as he slowly reached out to slide Aang's eyelids closed over his sightless eyes.

Aang was gone.

Gyatso knew that this information should have had him scrambling to relay the news – they needed to contact the Water Tribes in order to tell them that the next Avatar would soon be among them – but in that moment, Gyatso pushed aside everything and anything else.

"My boy…oh my Aang…" Gyatso murmured hopelessly, the small form of Aang in his shaking arms. The Avatar was limp and unresponsive, and the thought that just a few hours ago, Aang had been laughing and gabbering about his most recent flight with Appa…it tore Gyatso apart.

For the first time in nearly fifty years, Gyatso sat down, bowed his head, and cried.

It wasn't for the sake of himself that he cried, nor was it for the dozens of innocent Airbenders that had fallen in the attack. He didn't cry for the unfairness of it all, he didn't cry for the loss of the Avatar. He didn't even cry for the war that was soon to contaminate the world and destroy thousands of innocent lives.

Gyatso cried for Aang.


	2. Prologue Part 2

Yay for edited chapters!

I hope you guys like it, and if you have any questions, ask away!

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_

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><p>Prologue – Part 2<p>

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><p>Hundreds of miles away, at the very moment that Aang's heart ceased to beat, a baby was brought into the world in a gush of blood and with a healthy scream.<p>

The sounds of the screaming infant became somewhat muted as the baby was cleaned and rubbed gently to both clean and stimulate blood-flow, but once the ministrations ceased, the screams came back with a vengeance.

The air was cold and frigid outside, typical of the South Pole, but the interior of the ice structure was kept warm by the fire crackling in the center of the room. The walls were made of gracefully shaped ice and snow – a feat attributed to the Waterbender of that household – and there were bone shelves lining the walls, filled with all sorts of weapons, eating implements, and warm fur clothing. Multiple thick leather skins were sewn together to provide a dry, warm ground as opposed to the ice that served as the original floor.

A young non-bender was gasping and panting on a thick bed of furs, her long, dark hair tied back with a thong of leather, stubborn strands sticking to her sweat-ridden face and getting in her eyes. A young Waterbender with dark hair was shaking uncontrollably as he took deep breaths, his pale blue eyes locked on the kicking bundle in the healer's arms.

The new mother cracked an eye open, and sat up hurriedly at the sight of the squalling baby, groaning as exhaustion made her fall back. Her husband leaned over her; his hands smoothing her hair back as he let out a relieved laugh.

"It's all over, Shiya, it's done!" he exclaimed, grasping one of her hands in both of his, his voice full of relief. The woman smiled tiredly; silently amused by the way her husband's eyes flickered toward the bundle longingly, his hands tightening around her own. The man – his name was Len – was usually so fearless and confident, and seeing him so nervous in the face of meeting his first child…it was entertaining to say the least.

The old healer – Gana, her name was – had finished cleaning and wrapping the babe in a soft blanket, and she shuffled over to the happy couple, her smiling face surrounded by neatly coiled hair that was as white as the outside snow. The bundle in her leathery arms had not ceased its howl, and Shiya let out a relieved laugh as she stared into her husband's eyes, willing him to read her mind and understand that she was both ecstatic and terrified to behold the creature that was now theirs to care for.

"It's a girl," Gana proclaimed, and Len let out a startled breath as the babe was unceremoniously placed into his arms. The babe was crying and kicking strongly, so unused to the new sensation of being outside her mother's womb, and Len's eyes scanned the child's squirming limbs, trying in vain to find what was making her so miserable. His elbow moved instinctively to support the girl's unsteady head, and his gaze softened as he held her closer.

"She's so _tiny_, Shiya…" Len whispered, voice cracking, and the healer's quiet chuckle made him look up. The older woman waved her hand dismissively, a distant look of fond remembrance in her clear eyes as she watched Len lean down to examine his newborn daughter.

The baby girl was perfect and healthy, with powerful lungs and petite features. Dark hair faintly dusted her slightly misshapen head – a temporary mark of her difficult journey through her mother's passageway. Her skin was blotchy and wrinkled, but it would fade into the customary smooth tan of the Water Tribe after a few days. Her impossibly tiny fingers were clenched into discontented fists as she cried, and Len carefully shifted so the girl was closer to her mother.

Shiya sat up once more, her eyes eager and her hands reaching out, stubbornly rebelling against her tiredness. Gana moved to prop the woman up with thick, feather stuffed pads, and Shiya thanked her with a smile before enveloping her daughter in her trembling arms. Gana leaned down to whisper a reminder into Shiya's ear – the new mother would need to begin breastfeeding shortly, in order to encourage milk flow and to allow both child and mother to grow accustomed to the process. Then, with a nod to Len and a final smile to both of them, the old healer left the tent to relay the news of a successful delivery to the Southern Water Tribe leader, Chief Jyokin.

The young woman stared down at her daughter, tears of wonder and awe filling her eyes – a much more vivid shade of blue than was customary for Southern Water Tribe members, the color of the deepest glacier wells in summer – as she cuddled the babe close to her chest.

"Oh Len…I cant believe that _this_," she exclaimed, nodding to her still wailing child, "came out of _me_! She's so loud…that's a good thing, right?" Shiya looked to her husband, who had started laughing at the desperate lilt to her question.

"I sure hope so, Shi. Either way, she's here to stay," Len stated dryly, leaning forward to touch the little baby hesitantly on the nose, watching as she snuffled in confusion, her closed eyes scrunching as her face turned toward the direction of the contact.

"Oh, I know _that_," Shiya muttered impatiently, rolling her eyes at her husband's teasing tone. "It's just…this tiny, pretty little baby…it's _our_ baby. And…" she trailed off, her shoulders shrugging in hopeless confusion.

Len moved forward to rub noses with his wife, smiling as a shaky breath escaped her chest. "Here I thought that I was the only one who was completely clueless at how to deal with having a baby…"

"Len!" Shiya cuddled her baby protectively toward her, hissing, "Not so loud! She might hear you, and we don't want her first thoughts of us to be how unprepared we are!"

Len stared at the indignant Shiya for several moments before bursting out in a roar of laughter. Shiya flushed in embarrassment, and busied herself with lifting her shirt and attempting to encourage her child to begin feeding. Luckily for Shiya, Len was too busy trying to control his laughter to see her fumble and experiment awkwardly until the baby finally latched on. There was silence in the room as she sucked, and Shiya winced at the surprisingly strong sucking sensation. Len rolled up, and grinned at his wife, who scowled at him.

"Aw, Shi, don't be mad, it was funny! We're new at this; so what?"

"I just…" Shiya watched her daughter for a moment, her scowl fading as her eyes took on a much more sorrowful look. "I just don't want this baby to grow up without parents, or even worse, with parents who are too concerned with the village to really be there for them. You never met my parents, Len, but…" Shiya's eyes filled anew with tears. "I don't want…I _won't _let us be like them. I loved my parents, but…they didn't _raise_ me. They put a roof over my head and clothed me. Nothing more, nothing less."

Shiya's words halted abruptly, and she seemed to consider whether she should continue. But she then shook her head, and her mouth trembled as she clamped it shut.

Len's mood was somber as he moved closer, putting a strong arm around his trembling wife and leaning to place his face close to hers. He tenderly tucked a strand of Shiya's long – it fell to just below her waist – dark brown hair behind her ear, and sighed. Len pale blue eyes gazed steadily into her face until she finally looked up. His wife's eyes glimmering with tears. The Waterbender was serious as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, hugging both Shiya and the baby close to him.

"Listen to me, Shi. You have nothing to worry about; no, no, I'm serious," he insisted when Shiya looked down in embarrassment. "I love this village, but understand this: You and our daughter come first, our _family _comes first. I will not abandon either of you, not for anything or anyone. Understand?"

Shiya looked into Len's eyes, and her lips turned upward in a small smile as she nodded. Len leaned forward to kiss her chastely, and then he sighed, leaning his chin against her shoulder so he could look down at their daughter – beaming at the soft, contented grunts the baby was emitting as she suckled.

"So…what's her name?"

Shiya gaped at him, her regretful mood thoughtlessly pushed aside. "Wait, so suddenly it's on _me _to name her?"

"Yep."

"You aren't even going to _suggest _anything?"

"Nuh uh. I'm sure that with your astounding beauty and creativity, you'll choose the best name in the history of names."

"You're just being lazy, aren't you?"

"Call it what you like."

"…I hate you."

"I love you too, Shi."

Shi pursed her lips at him, her eyes narrowing at cheeky grin he gave her to combat her furious glare. Len closed her eyes, ready to hear the names Shiya had in mind, and the young woman huffed, turning away from her husband – had he always been this immature? – and focusing on her newborn child. It had to be something perfect, something feminine, yet strong and powerful.

A name that would be remembered.

Shiya was quiet for so long that Len peered over at her in an attempt to get her attention. She ignored him, her vivid eyes staring at the baby in her arms, who had finally finished her first meal, and was murmuring delicate sounds under her breath as she shifted ceaselessly for a more comfortable position.

Shiya felt a deep surge of adoration as she reached out to gently cup her daughter's face in her hand. Len was watching her, this she knew, but she couldn't find it in her to tear her gaze away from her child.

A name. A title. Something to call this beautiful creature that she and Len had created. A series of sounds that the girl would recognize as her own.

There were so many ways to classify the thing that Shiya was about to bestow.

"Korra," Shiya said, her eyes flickering to Len's with firm resolve. "Her name's Korra."

Len stared at Shiya for a long moment, and a flicker of doubt flared within Shiya's heart. Did he approve? Was it too short? Too long, maybe? Not the right sounds?

Her worries dissipated instantly when Len nodded approvingly.

"I like it. Hear that, Korra?" he whispered to their daughter, who was still contentedly feeding. "You've got a name!"

Shiya smiled warmly at Len, who grinned back, in that exuberant way of his that made her throat tighten. Shiya felt love welling up in her chest, not just for her newborn daughter but also for the man beside her. She took a moment to really look at him.

Len was ruggedly handsome, with strong, masculine features and the brightest smile in the world – in Shiya's opinion, of course. That was what really drew her to him in the first place. It wasn't so much his tall, muscled physique, or even his exciting and inviting personality. It was his smile. It was so genuine and happy, but he also had a way of just…_touching_ her with that smile.

They had known each other all their lives, but had only been placed in close contact three, when the two had been sent on a fishing trip. He had been nineteen at the time, and she had been seventeen. She had commented on his exponential skill in Waterbending – she wasn't a bender herself, but she had always been fascinated with the idea of it – and he had flushed modestly, sending her a smile so perfect and bright that the moment she recovered, she made a silent promise.

This, she vowed, would be the man she married.

Shiya was never one to break promises, even ones made to herself, and so she immediately began placing herself in his path. Like accidentally forgetting her hair-tie in her igloo dwelling and having to walk through the area in which Len helped teach Waterbending to the young children to fetch it. Or just _happening_ to walk past him during a feast, giving him a small smile and then coyly looking away when he gave her a smile in return.

Ah, those had been wonderful times.

It wasn't surprising to anyone – considering Shiya's dedicated character when it came to such things – when Len began to take more notice in the quiet young woman, pulled in by her mysteriousness and snagged by her kindness and loyalty. Shiya couldn't have been happier when Len presented her with an engagement necklace a year after beginig his courtship. They were married a month after this event, and Shiya became pregnant three months after that.

They were so well matched – Len with his playful, courageous nature and Shiya with her serious and responsible one. Shiya knew that she brought out the more serious side of Len, but also knew that his enthusiasm brought out a playful side of her that balanced out the seriousness she usually exuded. It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it worked. And the two of them were happy with each other, and there was enough trust and love to last a lifetime.

Len smiled at her as he moved his chin back to her shoulder, both of them going silent as they watched their daughter sleep. Shiya leaned her head on her husband's shoulder, smiling contentedly when Len's hand tightened around her waist. The new mother stroked her daughter's cheek, and her whisper was so soft that it meshed nicely with the silence of the igloo.

"Welcome to the world, Korra."

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><p>It was two years later that the Fire Nation was sighted off shore, heading toward the Southern Water Tribe. The ships were dark and unnatural against the surrounding ice, approaching like a pestilence. The scouts scrambled to sound the alarm, sticks pounding against the war drums.<p>

Shiya was holding a rambunctious Korra down when the alarm sounded, trying to gently and yet firmly pull a comb through the girl's dark tangles. Her head snapped up, her unusually blue eyes widening as Korra paused in her attempt to escape the inevitable brushing of her hair.

"What's that, Mommy?" Korra asked, her tiny hands grabbing at Shiya's arm, staring – the girl had inherited her mother's glacier-blue eyes – up at her mother with a frown. Shiya felt her heart racing as she heard feet running and voices screaming as they struggled to brace themselves against the attack.

The young woman threw down the comb, and placed Korra on the ground before rushing to begin throwing their belongings into large leather bags. The woman wasn't about to take any chances in this raid. There had been a raid just a few months ago, and several Waterbenders had been captured. Thank the spirits that Len wasn't one of them, but Shiya wasn't going to pray or hope that the same didn't happen this time around.

The woman finished in a matter of minutes, and Korra stuck a puzzled thumb in her mouth, her tiny face peeking out from her fur-lined hood and her legs moving slowly against the bulkiness of her outfit. Shiya grabbed the child's hand, slinging the heavy bags over her shoulder with her other hand.

"C'mon Korra, we're going to find Daddy."

Korra smiled brightly at the mention of her father. "Daddy!"

"Yes, Daddy. Can you help me look, Korra?" Shiya asked, trying to keep her tone light and cheerful, and Korra nodded, her eyes bright and lively as she skipped in the snow beside her mother.

The village was in uproar, women and children rushing to and fro as they prepared for the attack. Several villagers approached Shiya, and by the time she reached the main igloo – the Southern Water Tribe meeting place and council area – she understood the gist of what was going on.

The Fire Nation was an hour away, and the younger Waterbenders were being taken to the shelters as well as the non-benders, because it was clear that capturing Waterbenders was the Fire Nation's prerogative. They must not know that the Airbender Avatar was dead yet; if they had known, they would do more than simply raid the Southern Water Tribe. They would burn it to the ground, and kill every child of two years of age or younger.

The previous Avatar had died two years ago, and yet no Southern Water Tribe children had showed signs of the Avatar spirit. The customary test was for the children to pick four toys – out of a large bin of colorful playthings – that most appealed to them. Four of the toys were significant relics of previous Avatars, purposefully less appealing than the rest of the toys. If the child chose all four relics, they were recognized as the Avatar. But when all the children born within three weeks of the Avatar's death were tested – Korra was included, along with six other children – they all failed.

Shiya would never admit it, but when Korra reached into the bin and pulled out four non-relic toys, her heart thumped with jarring relief. Her daughter wasn't the Avatar, her daughter wouldn't be targeted. Her family was safe.

Shiya looked down at her little daughter. Korra was calm and quiet in the face of everyone's panic – a strange characteristic, but one that was helpful in times of stress – and Shiya wished that she could have the same calm. The young mother felt a frantic sob filling her throat when Len's figure did not immediately make itself known. The village leader, Chief Jyokin, waved at her and ran over, his breathing heavy and his eyes sharp. His graying brown hair was untied and wild atop his head, his gloves coated in ice. He must have been among the Waterbenders who were working to reinforce the outer walls, Shiya noted subconsciously.

"Shiya, I've been going around telling all the families with small children…there's a ship ready to take a group of families to the Northern Water Tribe. The Northern Tribe would be able to offer you refuge until we put an end to these Fire Nation raids."

Shiya's eyes widened, and Chief Jyokin shook his head. "Not many wish to leave; the Northerners have very different traditions, but I'm sure that you of all people see the wisdom in getting small children out of the line of fire." Shiya nodded curtly, and the older leaders eyes softened.

"Len is helping prepare the supplies. The ship will travel to Chin Village, where it will meet up with a Northern Water Tribe ship. That ship will take you the rest of the way."

The young woman nodded, and leaned down to scoop Korra up into her arms. The girl, who would usually fuss at being held like a baby, remained somber and quiet, and smiled shyly when the chief gave her head an affectionate pat. Shiya thanked the man hurriedly, running now in order to get to the shore, just outside the village.

She had to find Len, and then their family would set off together.

Korra clung to her mother, her head swiveling around as the village was left behind them, her eyes scanning the new and unfamiliar landscape. The snow crunched and hissed under Shiya's boots, and she tugged her hood over her head as the boat came into sight. The woman refused to look out toward the water, knowing that if she did, she would see the distant ships that would bring only destruction in their wake.

The mast of the large ship was stark and alone against the clear blue sky, and Shiya could see that at least a dozen families were already on the deck. All of them had either infants or incredibly small children, and all of them were talking quietly and called out to her as she approached.

Shiya waved half-heartedly, and her heart leapt when she saw Len on the snowy dock beside the boat, handing several toddlers up to their mothers. Korra cried out in happiness at the sight of her father, and at the familiar sound, Len looked over at them. His face was serious and stressed, and when he recognized the face within the concealing hood his eyes lit up and his lips spread in a relieved smile.

He ran over to her, and hugged the two of them close. Korra squirmed to get out of her mother's arms and reached out with chubby arms, her smile wide and carefree, so different from Shiya's forced smile of fear and anxiety. Len lifted Korra carefully, and rubbed noses with the girl, making her giggle.

"Hey, Korra! Are you ready to go on the boat?"

Korra nodded cheerfully. "Yeah! But Daddy, you promised to show me more water moves!" she demanded, her lips pursing in an irresistible pout. Len laughed, stealing a strange look at Shiya before looking back toward his daughter.

"I know, Korra, but I don't have time now. Someday…someday soon, I will. Go with Mommy now, alright?"

Korra nodded reluctantly. "Okay…" The girl reached for Shiya, and Shiya took her with a frown, moving automatically when Len led her toward the boat plank. Korra squealed at the sight of the water slapping the sides, and Shiya let the girl run up the smooth plank and onto the ship, starting to walk up after her daughter.

But Len wasn't following them.

Shiya felt icy realization sink deep into her skin as Len sent her a sad smile, and her face twisted into an expression of pure denial as she whirled on him. He couldn't possibly send them off alone, without any way of knowing whether he was safe…

"_No_!"

"Shi, listen to me–" he began, but she stormed up to him, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes were filling with tears, and she cursed her lack of an emotional filter, she hated her inability to control her tears.

"You can't, I won't let you! How can you even _think_ to ask this of me?" she shrieked at him, and Len let out a deep sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders, his eyes serious and depthless as they forced her to listen.

"The tribe needs me, Shiya."

Shiya's eyes widened so wide that Len's expression shifted to one of frantic concern. The young woman began to shake, in anger, in pain, in grim nostalgia. Her tears overflowed, and her mouth parted in a silent scream. Len blinked to keep his own emotions at bay, speaking firmly into the silence.

"I'll come up to get you as soon as I can, but for now, you need–"

"That's what my father always said…when they would go away for months at a time. _The tribe needs us_, he would always say, and my mother would agree with him."

Len stared at her, and Shiya continued to stare at her feet, her stomach coiling in pain as she went on in a hoarse whisper.

"I never told you how they died, did I? It was when I was ten years old, and they were going out on one of their missions. I watched them pack, staring and trying so…_so _hard not to cry. They each gave me a hug, as they always did, and told me to stay out of trouble while they were gone. I stood there and watched them leave."

"Shi–" Len's gloved hands were cupping her face, but Shiya continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I wanted so badly to run after them. _Please, stay with me_, I wanted to scream at them. _I can't do this alone_, I wanted to say, and I wanted my parents to kneel down and hug me, telling me that they would never leave me again. But…I didn't say anything. Instead, I sat down and began sewing, because that's what they would have wanted me to do," she cried, looking up at Len with tears freezing on her face as the wind picked up, blowing flakes of snow around them. The boat rocked unsteadily, and Len's eyes never left her face as she sobbed.

"They never came back…they tried to maneuver through the glaciers, and they…they didn't make it." Shi struggled to contain her sobs, and Len stared in silence, his eyes wide and shocked.

"Shiya," he started to say, face pale and stricken. "I'm so sorry–"

She shook her head. "I wasn't able to tell my parents to stay, Len, because I was a coward. I wanted…no…I _expected, _their approval more than their love," Shiya whispered, and she took a deep breath as she spoke.

"Please, stay with me, Len. I..." Her voice cracked, and then went on more strongly, "I can't do this alone! You once told me that you would never abandon this family, for no one and nothing…don't you dare go back on your word now!"

Len was silent for several long moments, his eyes flickering to the giggling Korra as she ran around the deck, holding her hands out as if she could fly if she just jumped upward. The young man's shoulders were tense and undecided, and Shiya jumped onto his hesitation, speaking rapidly into the silence.

"You know how the Northern Tribe forbids women from Waterbending! Len, think of how crushed Korra will be if she doesn't have anyone to teach her! You could teach her, you could be there for her in a way that I can never hope to be," she cried, her hands tightening on his forearms and her body moving closer to him.

Len was still silent, and his eyes now stared over her head and locked onto the village that had been their home for their entire lives. She turned to look too, and saw the beauty – and the fragile sadness – that seemed to permeate the place. Shiya and Len stood there together, and both of them remembered all the times they had spent laughing and running within its walls. It was where they had met for the first time as children, it was where Shiya learned all the skills for taking care of herself, it was where Len had learned that he had the ability to shape water with nothing but the strength of his will and the movement of his body. It was where Korra had been born; it was where they were most comfortable.

But that place of comfort was slowly crumbling.

Then, their gazes shifted to the ship, to the water beyond it, and to the future that its strong wooden structure held. A future with another Tribe. A stricter and more restraining Tribe, but an infinitely safer tribe.

At the same exact moment, both of them shifted to stare at their daughter.

Korra's hood had fallen off of her head, and her dark brown hair was whipping around in the wind, framing her beaming face and making her eyes – her mother's eyes – stand out even more against her rich tan skin. In the North, she wouldn't have to worry about raids; the icy rocks and glaciers of the North were too treacherous for the bulky and heavy ships of the Fire Nation. She could grow up in relative peace.

Shiya felt Len's arms encircling her, and gasped in relief when she felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

"You're right, Shi. We should stay together," Len whispered, and he pulled away after a moment, speaking to one of the other Waterbenders who was also helping families aboard. The Waterbender – a middle-aged woman named Jilip – nodded in understanding, and called out to Shiya.

"I wish you the best of luck; be sure to come back someday!"

Shiya assured the woman that they would, and Len moved over to take her hand. She could see how this decision was hurting him, but she refused to feel guilty. She refused to feel anything but joy that her daughter was going to have two parents to raise her and teach her.

Korra was bouncing up and down in excitement, and when she saw her mother and father board the ship, she ran up and swung herself around Len's legs. The Waterbenders were finishing loading supplies now, and Len reached down to grasp hands with each of them, their blue eyes brave and bright as they wished him well. Shiya smiled at each of them, thanking them silently for allowing her to be selfish, for allowing such a proficient Waterbender to willingly leave them in a time of crisis. There were other Waterbenders on the ship, but it was well known that Len was one of the best.

A scroll detailing all the travel coordinates and instructions was handed to one of the higher ranking tribe members in the camp, a non-bender who was especially skilled at reading maps and managing transportation. He accepted it with a serious nod, and began turning the wheel to face north.

In a synchronized movement, the remaining Waterbenders on the shore swept their arms upward, and with a graceful push, the water coaxed the boat into a smooth, swift line across the water. The navigator quickly moved to lift the dark blue sails, and the wind soon caught, pushing the ship even faster. They were heading toward the eastern glaciers, where the Fire Nation couldn't possibly follow.

The village of the Southern Water Tribe stood proud and beautiful, glinting in the cool sunlight, and those aboard the ship stared longingly at the place, all of them knowing that this was most likely the last time any of them were going to see the village in all its glory. The time of peace was over, most of them were aware of that fact. Len's eyes were glinting with tears as he watched the Waterbenders on the shore raise their hands in a customary salute that was given to those leaving on a long journey, a gesture meant to wish them safe and successful travels.

"Mommy, Daddy, where are we going?" a small voice interrupted Len's solemn vigil, and he looked down at the feel of the small fingers tugging on his leg. The young man glanced at Shiya, and a small, sad smile lifted his lips. He leaned down to pick her up, and he settled the young girl on his strong shoulders, pointing his arm northward, reluctantly turning his back on his beloved village as he did so.

"We're going to the Northern Water Tribe. It's going to be our home for a while."

"Why?" Korra asked, as curious as always, with a note of defiance that dared either of her parents to answer with anything less than a satisfactory answer. Shiya reached up to stroke Korra's hair.

"Because…some people are trying to hurt our village," Shiya said softly.

"Why?" Korra's tone was pained, and Len sighed before answering.

"They want to control us, and the rest of the world, but they don't understand that in order for there to be peace, there has to be balance."

Korra nodded. "Who keeps the balance?"

Shiya felt her throat tighten as she stared at Korra, her fearless little daughter. Len was also struggling to keep his emotions at bay, and Shiya put a hand on his arm as she smiled at the little girl.

"The Avatar."

"Then why isn't the Avatar _here_?"

Shiya's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Len's expression was just as blank and speechless, and their eyes met, equal expressions of shock on their faces. Korra stared at her parents, her little brow furrowing in confusion.

How could Shiya explain the war that was rising? How could she make clear the fact that the Avatar was dead, and there still was no sign of a new Avatar to take his place? She couldn't even _begin_ to explain the inevitable destruction of the Southern Water Tribe – only so much time would pass before the Fire Nation assumed that the Avatar had been reincarnated. It was the Southern Water Tribe's rotation in the Avatar Cycle, and the Fire Nation knew that along with the rest of the world.

Len was still watching her, and Shiya took a deep breath, her eyes straying toward the distant horizon of ice once more as she answered.

"I…I don't know."


	3. Chapter 1

Well, that was a doozy!

Sorry for the long wait, you guys, the main reason for it was that half-way through re-writing the first chapter, I had a really good idea, and decided to start over from the beginning.

So here's the new chapter, I hope you guys like it!

I'm really hoping you guys like my take on Korra - it's in 1st POV!

**Also, note that this is an AU**. Korra is less spiritually inclined in the cannon, a trait I think stems from the time in which she was born - not only the more technological age, but in a time of peace. In this story, she's raised in the most spiritual place in the world - the Northern Water Tribe, which houses the Spirit Oasis. Therefore, her spirituality is a little less stunted then it is in cannon.

Also, TOTAL COINCIDENCE, but I was doing my research on Sozin and Azulon...and I learned that in this story, Azulon and Korra are the same age. I was so WEIRDED OUT! I mean, I think of Azulon as Zuko's grandaddy, and now I have to think of him as a fifteen year old boy...

Ahh...the joys of fanfiction.

I can take the advice of Kaiba (from Yugioh Abridged) and screw the rules, because this is fanfanfiction.

If you have any questions, concerns, and/or want quicker updates...

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

* * *

><p>"Korra, why must you <em>always <em>fight me on this?" Mom asked, sending me a stern look over her rapidly moving fingers. She was sewing together a large gash that had appeared on Dad's outer parka – courtesy of one the newer students miscalculating the aim of his ice whip.

Mom's long brown hair was showing the barest hints of gray at the temples, and those tiny streaks shone silver in the icy silver light that streamed in from the open windows. She looked so calm and wise, and her tired expression was almost enough to make me back down.

Key word: almost.

Mom and Dad have always banned me from the Winter Festival – a yearly event that celebrated the beginning of winter as well as the beginning of hunting season, since the animal babies born and raised in the spring and summer were full-grown by the time winter came. It took place at dusk, and if I didn't leave soon I would miss the opening ceremony, which was the most exciting part of the festival. I had never gone, but some of the older girls said that the Waterbending Masters all preformed together, a sight rarely seen.

Dad was the one who usually squashed my arguments – I was powerless to change his mind about anything when he put his mind to it. But he wasn't at the house; the Chief had asked him to arrive early in the morning, to help organize some of the students' Waterbending performances. That meant that Mom stood alone in preventing me from going, which in turn meant that I actually had a _chance _of going this year.

I let out a growl of irritation, stomping my foot against the floor so hard that the leather floor-skins sunk an inch or two as the ice beneath them caved in slightly. I know, it sounds childish, a fifteen-year-old – a mere week away from being a _sixteen_-year-old – stomping her foot in lieu of being patient and verbally expressing her frustration.

Well, I would be the first one to tell you that I was anything but patient. I understood the importance of talking things through, but understanding it didn't always translate to me actually _implementing _it. Why waste time trying to find words when a simple action expressed the same sentiment?

Maybe the instinctual need to express myself physically was a result of my fierce dedication to Waterbending – a skill that required constant physical movement. But then again, my aggressiveness could just as easily be an inherent part of my personality. I was secretly betting on the second one, but Dad always consoled Mom with the first.

"Because, Mom, this is totally unfair! Aela's parents are letting her go, and–"

"I don't care what Aela's parents decide, this is about _you_, Korra," Mom admonished, and set down her sewing in order to better focus on the argument. "You know how you get around other Waterbenders, and I'm just worried that you'll…" she trailed off, her mouth pursing in a frown. I blinked, surprised. And then the anger set in.

"I'll what, jump in and start Waterbending with them? Spirits, Mom, do you really think I'm that _stupid_?" I snapped, and Mom's eyes flickered to the open window, as if afraid that people would be listening in on our conversation.

I stomped over to the windows and slammed shut the hardened leather shutters, turning to her with a mock-fearful gasp. "Oh yeah, I forgot, you don't _want _me to Waterbend! Spirits forbid that I actually use the powers I was born with!"

"You _know_ that's not how I feel, Korra!"

"Then what _do _you feel? All I want to do is watch, Mom! I can't help it, I love to Waterbend! I love Waterbending in general! I can only learn so much from Dad, I need to see it in action, outside of lessons," I fervently explained, and Mom's hard scowl slowly disappeared into a smile. She moved forward, and put her hands on my shoulders.

Mom's vibrant blue eyes were earnest. "I know you love to Waterbend, Korra. And I love watching my baby girl when she's passionate about something; I love that Waterbending brings out that side of you. It makes me happier than you can possibly know. But you have to understand; I'm also a parent. It's my _job_ to worry. Your father and I brought you to the Northern Water Tribe for your own good, and with that safety comes some necessary precautions. It's risky enough that your father is teaching you Waterbending, to add on more temptation for you…it isn't safe!"

It took a lot of restraint not to let my temper get away with me, and I was actually surprised at how calm my response was. Maybe Mom's constant scolding was finally beginning to stick. It only took fifteen years…not too shabby, if I may say so myself.

"I know, Mom, but I'm not a little kid anymore! I know the dangers of me Waterbending, and I'm grateful that you and Dad are taking the risk of having me Waterbend. I understand _why _I need to be secretive, and I _know _how to take care of myself! I just…I just want a chance to prove it. Please, let me go to the Winter Festival. I promise, I'll be really, really, _really _careful!"

Mom stared at me, her eyes level with mine – I had finally grown enough to where we were the same height. I could see her resolve wavering, and I bit my lip in eager excitement. Oooh I was so close…c'mon…

"…_fine_. But you have to promise me that you won't make a scene. No jumping up and down and yelling about any flaws there may be with their forms. Don't give me that look, you know what I'm talking about," Mom said quickly, and the skeptical look faded from my face, a cheek-splitting grin taking its place.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!" I squealed, leaping at her and hugging her tightly. Mom laughed at my enthusiasm, and hugged me back tightly before pulling back and shooing me out with her hands.

"Go on, baby girl. Have fun, and tell your father that I tried my best. I'll head up after I finish this mending – also, tell him that if he doesn't stop wrecking his parkas, I'll put untreated eel skin on every single _inch_ of his underclothes."

"I'm sure he'll shape up, Mom," I said, giggling as I ran around the house, grabbing my thick parka and practically jumping into my boots. Eel skin was fine once it was scraped and rubbed with tiger-seal oil. But when it was fresh, it was slimy and gross, almost like handling the live eels themselves.

I was halfway out the door when Mom's voice rang out. "Korra, your hair!"

"Sorry, can't hear you, there's wind in my ears!" I yelled back, disregarding the blatant lack of wind. My closing the entrance flap cut off her protests, and I called a quick "I love you" before taking off toward the central meeting arena. It was located in front of the palace, which glittered and sparkled in the weak sunlight – even weaker than usual, now that the sun was setting.

As for my hair, well, I had never been one to spend much time caring about what I looked like. At the moment, it was pulled back in a short braid – I had recently cut my hair to just below my shoulders. Executing complex Waterbending moves while lugging around waist-length hair was a lot harder than it looked, and so a week or so ago, Dad and I had made an executive decision – obviously without Mom's approval, as she would have thrown an absolute _fit _– and hacked most of it off. It was still long enough for a braid, which was the only thing that prevented Mom from completely losing her mind.

And so, to appease her, I was sticking to the braid for a while.

The thick soles of my boots gripped the ice underfoot, and my breath made heavy clouds of smoke in the air. My body warmed from the brisk pace, and as always, I was tempted to take off my outer parka. But of course, I didn't, because that was a lesson we were taught from a very young age; no matter how hot you get, don't take off your parka. If you did, the outside air would freeze the moisture that had collected on the inside of your parka, rendering it useless in keeping you warm.

To help with the heat, I left my fur-lined hood down, letting the crisp air cool my face and neck as I ran. The main bridge was almost in sight – I hoped that Aela hadn't given up all hope for me, and was still waiting as we agreed the day before at healing lessons. I wouldn't blame her if she had; Aela knew Mom, and when I told her of my plan to talk my mother into letting me go, she had cringed, and merely wished me good luck.

I turned the corner, and a smile stretched across my face at the sight of my best friend leaning against the side of the bridge, tossing little pieces of ice into the water below. She had dressed up for the occasion – though it should be noted that compared to me, Aela was the epitome of everything feminine, and so what I deemed "dressing up" was actually her daily consideration for her appearance – and looked up as I approached.

"Wow, you actually _survived_!" Aela called teasingly, and jogged forward to meet me halfway.

Aela was one of those girls that were so beautiful, you just _had_ to stop and make sure they were real. I'd wager to say that she was the prettiest girl in the entire Northern Water Tribe, but I didn't say so, as it would've made my friend uncomfortable. With long, shiny brown hair, elegantly feminine features, and silver-blue eyes, she was considered by everyone to be extremely attractive. Not to mention that she was the daughter of the War Commander – one of the most esteemed positions in the Tribe – and an exceptional healer.

But besides her physical appearance and status, there was just this sort of _glow _that exuded from her. It sounds silly and overdramatic, but I stand by it. Aela was just one of those people that stood out no matter what the situation; it was no wonder the Chief's son, Nanook, had fallen in love with her. Aela had turned sixteen four days ago, but Nanook had given her an engagement necklace two months ago to secure her hand. The pendent was beautiful, a simple crescent moon shape with a uniquely textured surface – rippling like the waves of the ocean.

It was a rare occasion in which both sides of an arranged marriage were delighted with the partner chosen for them. I'm happy to declare that the pairing of Aela and Nanook was an example of such contentment. Nanook was a very brave and thoughtful young man, a perfect match for Aela's patient and loving nature. They genuinely enjoyed each other's company, and if Aela's blushes and giggles were anything to go by, the physical attraction was _definitely_ there. It would have been easy to be jealous of Aela's uncommonly compatible match, but I wasn't the type to lament over things like that.

Marriage? Psh, I couldn't focus on that, not when I had my Waterbending to occupy the majority of my attention. In fact, it was probably my determined concentration on things other than boys and marriage that had resulted in the jarring lack of engagement proposals. Even if I had been getting proposals, I knew that the choice was ultimately mine. Dad was adamant about following the marriage proposals of the Southern Water Tribe, which was much more relaxed, basing marriage on the feelings of both individuals rather than political advancement.

Aela and I hugged tightly for a moment, and she peered at my hastily braided hair with a slight purse of her lips. But to her credit, she didn't voice her disapproval, and instead moved with me toward the main arena. I stole a look at Aela's intricately combed and twisted tresses, and sighed in appreciation. It must be nice to have the patience and skill to spend over an hour doing one's hair.

"Yeah," I admitted, companionably bumping shoulders with my friend. "Mom's not as stubborn as Dad…I actually managed to talk her into letting me go."

Aela smiled warmly, and bumped me back. "Is the house still standing?" she asked innocently, and giggled as my cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Hey! I don't just go around destroying things!"

"I'm kidding, Korra, I'm kidding!"

The rest of the way to the festival ground consisted of Aela running away from me, laughing and struggling to avoid the snowballs I mock-angrily threw in her direction. I was careful to avoid her hair – I didn't want Aela's hard work to go to waste – and it was only when we reached the top of the stairs leading to the central area that I was given a reason to cease fire.

"Do you need help, Korra, or are you managing fine on your own?" a deep voice asked, and Aela and I looked up to see Nanook standing casually against one of the pillars holding up the pavilion. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they scanned his breathless fiancée.

Nanook was eighteen-years-old, with the sharp, masculine features common in Northern Water Tribe men. As was customary for first-born princes, Nanook wore his hair in a low ponytail, with several large beads clipped in the dark braids framing his face. Around his neck was a necklace made up of squares of bone sewn side by side, a necklace that symbolized his status as the first-born son of the Chief. Carved into the bone square just above the hollow of his throat was a crescent moon – identical to Aela's engagement pendent. I smiled at the sight, and looked at my friend to see her reaction.

The girl was a beacon, her smile so wide that her teeth shone plainly in the dimming light. Nanook's face softened when Aela moved forward to touch his forearm, her eyes bright as they gazed up into his face.

"Nanook, I thought that you were performing!"

"I am, but I wanted to see you before the opening ceremony," he murmured, and Aela smiled shyly, cheeks flaring. They continued to exchange small talk, and behind them, I finally gave in to the urge to roll my eyes.

They were disgustingly cute together, and it took everything in my power not to grimace in awkward discomfort.

Nanook seemed to remember that he and Aela weren't alone, because he forced himself to look past her in order to properly acknowledge me. "Do you mind if I steal Aela, Korra? My father wishes to discuss wedding details with the two of us."

Aela bit her lip, scanning my face with her silver-blue eyes. Oh Aela…she was always looking out for me. It had been like that since the beginning; the two of us had met when we both started healing lessons at the age of five years old. I had been a horrible mess of nerves that day, and the other children were wise to stay away from me.

Well, all the children except for one.

With the open curiosity that graces young children, Aela sat down next to me and asked me what my name was and if I wanted to be friends with her. Even at that age Aela was uncannily aware of those around her, a trait that had followed her into adulthood.

We had been inseparable ever since that day.

I looked at Aela and Nanook, and felt a sad weight settle in my chest. I was happy for them, but at the same time, Nanook's words went deeper than just that moment. He wasn't just stealing her for the festival; he was also stealing her as my best friend. Aela and Nanook were getting married in a week – the preparations for the event would soon take up most of my friend's time, leaving very little opportunity to spend time with me. The life of a married woman is very different from that of an unmarried one, and while I knew that marriage wouldn't hurt our relationship, it would induce an unavoidable separation.

I suppose it's fitting, that it should come down to this question. Aela had been the one to begin our friendship, and so it was only right that I should be the one to let it go.

"Sure. I'll see you for healing lessons tomorrow morning, right?" I asked Aela, and she nodded in affirmation. Her beautiful face was shining with affection as the two of them gave me their goodbyes, and headed off toward the crowd of people gathered to watch the ceremony. I watched as their gloved hands slowly gravitated toward each other, until they were linked. Aela's face tilted to the side as she laughed, and Nanook's head leaned in toward hers as they walked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and forced myself to follow them, searching for someone to stand with during the ceremony. Luckily, the other students in my healing class were standing nearby, and waved me over. I smiled in relief, and easily joined their circle. They were gossiping about the handsome Waterbending students who were practicing off to the side, and I was happy to remain mostly quiet. I liked the girls just fine, it's just that we didn't _connect _the way I would have liked.

They lived their lives with one thing in mind: making themselves available for a suitable husband.

I didn't fault them for that – females in the Northern Water Tribe weren't expected to do much besides healing and tending the home – but it made me think of my own life and my own dark secret.

I was a Waterbender. I had been Waterbending as long as I can remember – Dad said that I had started manipulating water around the same time I started walking on my own two feet. And the awful thing about my secret was that I was _good_! At fifteen, I was as skilled, if not _more_ skilled than Dad's graduating students – most of them were a good four years my senior.

Not even Aela, my best friend, knew of my abilities. I was willing to risk my own saftey, but I refused to bring her into that part of my life for fear that her future would be ruined beyond repair. I knew that she would keep my secret, but if people found me out, they would know that she had kept it from the leaders of the Tribe. They would punish her for keeping such a terrible secret, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Somehow, over the clamor of hundreds of people present in the arena, a pure note of music was heard. It was enough to quickly silence the tribe – according to the murmurs and whispers around me, it wasn't normal for the Winter Festival to open this way – and everyone's attention was drawn to the center of the marked off circle. I moved to the side so I could see what was making the noise, and my jaw dropped open in shock.

Aela was standing in the center of the arena, and she was holding the flute. It was a delicate thing, and yet in her hands it resounded so strongly. Her eyes were calm and collected, but I knew her well enough to see the tension in her shoulders. I moved instinctively, nudging my way to the front of the circle of onlookers. Aela's lips were trembling slightly, and when she saw me her face sagged in relief. I gave her a confused wave of my hands, and she grinned in triumph, some of her cool confidence reappearing in her face. Had she been _planning_ this?

Chief Watali stood, his fierce face smoothing out in a smile as he raised his hands to his people. On his right sat his wife, and on his left sat Nanook. The young man was staring proudly at Aela, only shifting his attention when his father began to speak.

"Welcome, my brothers and sisters! Today marks an annual tradition in the Northern Water Tribe; the celebration of winter and the bounty it brings us! We thank the spirits for their kindness in helping see us through the season, and celebrate the days that await us," the Chief called, and the crowd clapped and called out in agreement. It was beginning to snow very faintly, and I – following the lead of the people on either side of me – tugged my hood up over my head, tightening the strings so that the fur loosely framed my face.

"As you all know, in one weeks time, we will come together once more to celebrate the union between my son, Prince Nanook, and the lovely young woman standing before you."

I grinned; the engagement had been such a predictable event – a blind person could have seen it coming – that by the time Chief Watali announced it a week or so later, it had already circulated around the city a million times over. Those around me were smiling and nodding, and Chief Watali continued with a smile.

"My future daughter-in-law has very kindly offered to present a piece of her own composition. I present to you, Aela!"

The man sat down, and all eyes returned to Aela. She stood, silent and still, and her eyes remained locked on mine. I felt a pang of something deep and sharp…like the jab of a knife. In an odd moment of total clarity, I knew that I would never forget that feeling, the look in Aela's eyes as she stared.

"This is for you," she said to me, and began to play.

The first notes began to spill into the air, and the wrenching sadness to them made my throat clench unsteadily. Aela's eyes slid closed as she swayed with the music, her fingers curving over the holes in the flute without hesitation.

I can't describe Aela's song. I'm not very musical, so trying to explain what the melody entailed would be a waste of time. But as I stood there, frozen in place, I felt such an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. The song rose and fell like the ocean tide, and it was so heartbreaking and wistful that I was tempted to reach for it, as if to prevent it from slipping away from me.

"_I'm Aela, what's your name? We're gonna be friends, right?" _

Hot tears fell down my cheeks, blurring my vision and clogging my throat with their thickness. I let them fall, turning my head downward.

Aela knew that things would never be the same between us. I had assumed she was too innocent to understand the changes marriage brought, but it was clear that she had no such naivety. She understood that our friendship would be altered irrevocably, and this was her chance to show the entire village how much she had to lose.

How much I had already lost.

The last note hung on the air, low and full of finality. I looked up to meet Aela's eyes, and found them to be wet with tears. She was rubbing away frozen tracks of water lined her cheeks, and I reached up to do the same to the identical lines of ice that were lodged onto my own cheeks. We stared at each other, the sounds of the tribe clapping filling the silence. After a respectful amount of time, Chief Watali stood, and the applause faded away.

"Thank you for the beautiful performance, Aela. Now, I am happy to present the Masters, who have prepared their own demonstration for us to enjoy before the festivities begin!"

Aela moved forward, and the two of us were hugging so tightly I was surprised no ribs cracked. Around us, the mass of people was moving away from us to get a better view of the Master Waterbenders as they moved to the stage set up off to the side. The air was cold and crisp against the exposed skin of my face, and I burrowed my head in my friend's coat to escape it for a little while. The tears were welling up again, but I forced them back, forcing myself to be strong. I needed to be strong. I needed to stand by Aela no matter how abandoned I felt.

"Thank you, Aela," I breathed, and Aela clutched me tighter, her braids brushing against my cheek – she was a few inches shorter than me.

"No, thank _you_, Korra," Aela replied, just as shakily, and the two of us pulled away, keeping our arms linked, unwilling to let go completely. A smile appeared on Aela's lips as the drums began to beat an upbeat rhythm, and she tilted her head toward the Master Waterbenders standing on the stage.

"Are you ready?" she asked, and I looked at the figure that was my father, standing proudly in the center of the Masters, familiar and comforting. He seemed miles away, the excitement of seeing advanced Waterbending a distant memory.

But as I looked down at my friend, I knew that it _wasn't _a distant memory. It was right there and then, in that moment…_that's _where I was. I was in the present, and Aela was beside me, simply Aela for a moment and not the fiancée of the future Tribe Chief. Dad was about to preform for the Winter Festival. I was fifteen years old, soon to be sixteen.

And despite the sadness in my heart…I was _happy_.

"Of course!" I said with a grin, and Aela laughed before tugging me into the crowd to get a better view of the stage.


	4. Chapter 2

*dodges items being thrown in anger*

I'm sorry! I just started my freshman year of college, and I have little to no free time to write!

In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

I feel very iffy about it, and I might go back and edit it if I'm feeling saucy. But I'll wait to see what y'all think before I do so.

To make my life much much better...

**_PLEASE REVIEW! _**

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p>The next day came without much fuss, bright and soft with a faint dusting of snow. I sucked in a deep breath of the crisp air, and listened to the sounds of two pairs of boots crunching in the snow. It was pretty early in the morning – Ulia's advanced healing class met just after dawn – and as always, Dad insisted on walking with me to my lesson.<p>

"So, did you enjoy yesterday's Festival?" Dad asked, and I stole a glance at him. Like Mom, Dad's hair was peppered with gray, as was his carefully trimmed goatee. His eyes were a pale shade of blue – Mom and I had uncommon eyes, the color being much deeper than was normal for the Water Tribes – and the corners of his mouth and eyes were creased with smile lines.

"Uh huh! The Waterbending demonstration was _amazing_!" I gushed, and had to forcibly close my mouth so I wouldn't blurt out my questions regarding a particular Waterbending form. Dad seemed to sense my confliction, because he sent me a knowing nod, and then faced front again.

"I _was _rather incredible, wasn't I?"

"Ugh! Arrogant, much?" I exclaimed, rolling my eyes and ignoring his cackle of amusement at my tone. My dad was such a goofball. It was funny to think that some of the rookie Waterbender students were actually _scared _of him.

I mean, seriously? The man still laughs at _fart jokes_.

…

Okay, _fine_, I'll admit it: I laugh at fart jokes too – let's be honest with ourselves, you'd have to have a heart of ice _not _to. But I think I've made my point. My dad is undeniably silly and lovable. To be scared of him is like being scared of a baby buffalo-yak.

"So," Dad began after he had calmed down some. "aren't you close to graduating from Ulia's classes?"

I nodded sadly. "Yeah. I'm thinking of applying to join the Royal Healers."

There were three routes healers could choose after turning sixteen – the age at which you ceased to be a child and became an adult.

The first option was to cease their training and start planning for their marital future. A majority of the girls chose this path, and for good reason. If they didn't meet the requirements for the other two options, all of the time they spent training when they could have been preparing for marriage would be wasted.

The second option was to apply to join the public healing center, located in the lower sector of the city. It was large and clean, with friendly healers and good facilities. To be accepted, a person had to prove their worth by volunteering for a month, a month in which they would be given various situations and judged on how well they responded to each one.

The third option was the one I was aiming towards. The Royal Healers were a group of healers that were the absolute masters of their craft. Many had attempted to join over the years, but only one or two were able to make the cut. The test was an arduous process that demanded advanced practical, written and verbal exams on all of the chakra points and their individual uses, as well as techniques used to heal various afflictions. The Royal Healers lived in the palace, constantly training and studying to hone their knowledge. As a result, they were highly respected throughout the North Pole and given special privileges within the tribe.

But I wasn't interested in getting the honor and respect of the tribe. The main reason I wanted to join the Royal Healers was the location. The area used for teaching Waterbending was a part of the royal courtyard, visible from nearly every palace window. If I was a Royal Healer, I could watch and learn every single day. I would still accept my father's input, but I wouldn't be twiddling my thumbs, waiting for him to teach me new things. I could watch during the day and then experiment on my own at night. Oh, another thing, being a Royal Healer gave me ample access to my usual Waterbending spot – I relished the idea of not having to sneak around in terror of being caught.

I coughed, realizing that I had been spacing out and quickly speaking to cover up the silence.

"Being a Royal Healer would be great. I could _do _more…I could…you know…" I trailed off, and Dad smiled warmly, reaching over to hug my shoulders.

"I know, sweetheart. I'm positive that you'll pass the Royal Healer test – your mother talked with Ulia the other day, and she had nothing but glowing things to say about you. She even went so far as to say that you're the most skilled healer of your generation, and that with a few years of real life experience under your belt, you could go extremely far."

My heart thumped at that, and I gave him a disbelieving stare. "She didn't…"

Ulia was a wonderful woman, gentle and loving. But she was very modest, and she didn't like to pick favorites or use her authority to goad her students into competition – most healing teachers did just that, and Ulia's gentleness was the main reason Dad and Mom had put me into her class. She was equally caring toward all of her students; it seemed strange for her to so openly express such glowing opinions.

Dad held up his hands. "Your mother was surprised too, don't worry. I already knew you were the best, so it wasn't that much of a shock." I gaped at him, and he smiled, glancing around to make sure that the streets were empty. They were, and we were far from any open windows, so being overheard wasn't a problem. Dad stopped walking, placing his hands on my shoulders and speaking in a low voice.

"What is most impressive about your success, Korra, is your dedication. It was clear from very early on that you were a naturally gifted Waterbender, but even when I told you that, you never once sat back and relied on your gift. You pushed yourself, you never gave up, and now I can say that my daughter is an exceptional Waterbender that will only continue to grow stronger. You have made me so proud."

I beamed, and buried myself in Dad's arms, more to hide the wetness welling in my eyes than anything. Spirits, I loved him. I loved both of my parents, but my father and I just _clicked_…we really understood each other.

According to Mom, when I was two years old – when we left the Southern Water Tribe – Dad had wanted to stay and fight against the Fire Nation raids. The idea of not having my father here with me made my blood run cold.

Dad hugged me back, gently stroking my hair. After a few moments, we pulled away, and resumed walking toward the palace. We reached the healing huts, and Dad opened his mouth to say goodbye when a Royal messenger ran around the corner, nearly running into my father in his haste.

"Oh, Master Len, it's you! I was sent by the Chief to tell you that you are needed at the palace immediately!"

"Calm down, what's the situation?" Dad ordered, a serious mask slipping over his smiling face. I took a step closer to him, looking at his face carefully to see his reaction to the messenger's response.

"There's been another claim!" the messenger said breathlessly, and Dad's face relaxed, his eyes softening. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep sigh before nodding.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

The messenger bolted off, and I looked at Dad with a frown. "A claim?"

Dad frowned. "You haven't heard? Hmm…I guess the Chief has been rather cautious about keeping it quiet. You see, starting about a week ago, there have been several claims of children being the Avatar. I don't know why anyone takes it seriously, the next Waterbender in the cycle simply _has_ to be from–"

"–the Southern Water Tribe," I finished, and Dad gave me a searching look. I can't say exactly what was communicated between us in those few moments; all I knew for certain was that his smile was rather sad.

"It's how it's always been. But even so, I'd better get up there. Have a good lesson, alright? I'll see you tonight."

And with that, Dad took a large step backward, disappearing over the edge of the sidewalk and into the water of the canal. Except that there was no splash. I laughed, and a much deeper laugh echoed mine from over the edge of the sidewalk. I leaned over, and saw that Dad was standing on a delicate circle of ice.

_Show off_, I mouthed, and Dad winked before flicking his hands behind him and surfing across the rippling waters of the canal. He soon disappeared around a corner, and I shook my head before turning toward the healing huts.

There were four in total, igloos with small windows to let out some of the heat that accumulated inside. They had been constructed ages ago, among the first buildings to be built in the city. Ulia's hut was at the back, and was the smallest and plainest of the bunch. The other teachers adorned their huts with modern designs and decorations, while Ulia – being the simple woman she was – did nothing to alter the original work, letting the ancient beauty speak for itself. Most parents overlooked Ulia's hut in favor of the more flashy ones, and as a result, her classes were quite small.

I had been Ulia's student for ten years.

The thought echoed in my mind, and suddenly, I felt very old. The thought was silly, and I straightened my shoulders to ease the foolishness. It didn't help, but I refused to admit that to myself.

I pushed aside the heavy leather covering the doorway, and walked into the room with a smile on my face. Aela was already there, sitting beside a very pregnant Ulia – this was her third child.

Aela was sixteen, and so technically she wasn't a part of the class, as she had graduated five days ago. But Ulia hadn't so much as said a word about it, and I just knew that the woman was giving Aela the chance to be a normal girl for a little while longer. Or at least, that's what I guessed. Whatever it was, I was glad for it; I wanted to spend as much time with Aela as possible before the wedding.

The wedding was only six days away.

Huh. I hadn't realized it until now; Aela's wedding was on my birthday. How had _that _slipped past me?

Ulia and Aela looked up at the sound of my entering, and my best friend's face lit up in silent greeting. She jumped up, and gave me a tight hug before leading me back to where Ulia was seated.

"I was just asking Ulia what she's planning on naming the baby; it's due any day now!" Aela gushed, plopping down next to the older woman once more. I sat down next to Aela, and turned toward our teacher.

"Hello, Master Ulia. Shouldn't you be at home? If the baby comes–"

Ulia waved away my concern, giving me a soft smile. "Don't worry, Korra. I'm due in a week, and the last two came a few days late, so we have nothing to worry about."

I gave her a long, careful look, but decided to let it go. "Okay, just making sure. So, what's the name gonna be? Do you know if it's a boy or girl?"

Ulia gave the two of us a guilty smile, and patted her swollen belly. "I promised Rune that I would let it be a surprise, but I'm a healer, for Spirits sake! How can my husband expect me to go into labor without making sure the child's healthy?"

"So what is it?" Aela asked, leaning forward in eagerness.

"It's a boy. Rune and I agreed that if we had a boy, we'd name him Pakku."

"Pakku, huh?" I murmured, and laughed at the sight of Aela cooing and giggling. She was such a fan of anything baby-related, and seeing her lose her mind was nothing if not amusing. I liked babies fine, but I preferred children when they were old enough to roughhouse and hold conversations – albeit jumbled and sometimes lacking in grammatical accuracy.

The door flap opened, and the two remaining members of our class –Tokka and Sukka – rushed in. They were twins; though it was easy to tell them apart, thank the Spirits.

Tokka was the more playful and gregarious of the two, and her hair was bluntly cut so that the ends reached her chin. Her bangs were shaggy and uneven, giving her a roughish sort of air. Sukka was calm and reserved, with a bit of a bored expression on her face. Her long hair was braided, thick bangs cut perfectly straight across her brow.

Tokka beamed, and I sent her a cheerful wave. Tokka was without a doubt my favorite of the two – she was witty and fun, which made for a very entertaining and harmonious relationship between the two of us. Sukka greeted the rest of us with their usual seriousness, and I smiled back at her. She was nice enough, but it had been proven over the years that we would never be bosom buddies, and I was perfectly fine with that.

Ulia got to her feet with a great effort – I doubt she could have done it at all if Aela and I hadn't jumped to help her – and turned to retrieve the lightweight manikin with the chakra paths carved into the surface.

We all sat up straighter on our cushions, and without further ado, the healing lesson began.

* * *

><p>The floor of the hallway wasn't particularly comfortable, but I didn't dare shift my position for fear of making noise. I put more weight on my hands, leaning forward in order to place myself as close to the corner as possible. My parents were sitting at the dinner table, and I knew from a hurried glance around the corner that Dad was sitting with his back to me, his head in his hands. Mom was sitting opposite him, her fingers tracing his forearm with soothing firmness.<p>

It was late, and I was supposed to be asleep by now. But something about the way Dad's face tightened painfully when he told me to go to bed…it urged me to find out what was wrong. And so I waited a few minutes, and then crept back out to listen in on their conversation.

"Len, it's not your fault," Mom was saying gently, and Dad's voice was harsh when he responded – my father was rarely severe with my mother, and so this made me pause in my assumptions.

"Don't you think I know that? I'm not stupid, Shiya, I know that staying in the South Pole wouldn't have helped anything. But at least I could have _tried_ to save them! Now, my fellow benders are being _hunted_…and there's nothing I can do to help…"

I had to bite down hard on my lip to prevent a gasp from leaving me. I had heard rumors of the Fire Nation attacking the South Pole, but they had been so vague that I couldn't draw any solid conclusions from them. But now, the rumors all came into place, and as I recalled his words from this morning, I knew that Dad's fears were well founded; the Southern Water Tribe would die out if its sister tribe didn't step in.

Because the Fire Nation knew – as every bender and non-bender in the world knew – that the next Avatar _had _to be born in the Southern Water Tribe. And what better way to prevent the Avatar from gaining strength than eliminating all benders in the South Pole?

It would kill two birds with one stone.

My stomach twisted painfully, and I leaned down so my forehead touched the cool floor. I couldn't remember the Southern Water Tribe; the Northern Water Tribe was my home, the place I felt safest, the place I knew like the back of my hand. But for my parents, the South Pole was their home, a place that housed all of their family and friends.

I couldn't imagine how painful it must be for them, to hear about the raids and be unable to do anything. Dad always prided himself in being knowledgeable, in being the man who could always fix things. I could hear it in his voice; he hated being so utterly helpless in the face of such a threat.

Mom was quiet for a time. "Do you think they have found the Avatar, yet?" she asked, and the air of the house seemed to grow colder at her words. I didn't think to breathe, too focused on listening for Dad's response.

I had grown up with tales of the Avatar, the wise and powerful peacemaker of the world. But along with those tales was the jarring truth: Avatar Aang had died almost sixteen years ago, at only twelve years of age. He had died on the day of Sozin's Comet – the comet was named after the current Fire Lord and instigator of the war – and used the last of his strength to send out energy barriers to surround the four Air Temples. According to messages from the Northern Air Temple, the barriers were invisible, and only allowed Airbenders to enter and leave Air Nomad territory.

The Fire Nation survivors of the raid on the Southern Air Temple had witnessed the boy's death, and had sent word to Fire Lord Sozin, who immediately began to attack the Southern Water Tribe.

"No," Dad replied, his voice losing the edge of his frustration and taking on a very bleak note. I frowned; shouldn't the Fire Nation not yet capturing the Avatar instill some hope in my father? Why did he sound so sad and lost?

"What makes you so sure?" Mom asked, her tone as confused as I myself was.

"I just know."

"What does that mean, Len? How could you possible know? For all we know, the Avatar could have been killed already, and is now reborn into the Earth Kingdom!"

"Shiya…" Dad whispered, and his voice faltered, a deep cough resounding from his throat. There was a rustle as Mom sat, and her voice was pleading.

"Len, please…tell me what you're thinking. I hate seeing you like this, let me help!"

There was a thick silence, and I could hear the heavy breathing of my father. He was never this flustered unless something big was bothering him, and so I most definitely shared my mother's concerns.

"Do you remember the first Avatar testing day, back in the Southern Tribe? When I was called in to test the children who could possibly hold the Avatar Spirit?"

"Yes, but they all tested negatively. I remember, Korra was a part of that group. She didn't even _touch_ the toys…" Mom's voice was wary now, unsure of where Dad was going with the prompting of that particular day.

I was just as confused – Dad had never told me that he was one of the officials that tested the selected children. I didn't remember the testing, but in my mind's eye I could imagine a much smaller me, toddling around the room and blatantly ignoring the toys in favor of mimicking Dad's Waterbending moves. I had never been a fan of static playthings, preferring the fluid and ever-changing entertainment Waterbending offered.

"I brought Korra in, and at first, she _did _ignore the toys. She danced around, babbling and laughing. But then, she spotted the pile of toys, and went over to them. I couldn't interfere, that was against the rules, and so I watched as she picked out the Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, and Fire Nation toys. She set those aside, and then reached for the last one. She held the Air Nomad toy close to her face, and without warning…she began to cry. I didn't know what was wrong, she had been so happy just a moment ago. But she just held on to that toy and kept on crying…"

My thoughts went completely blank. I didn't even hear what Mom said in response, everything in my head was all echoed and muted. The blood was roaring in my ears, and with it came the truth.

_They lied to me they lied to me they lied to me I'M THE AVATAR–_

I scrambled backward, not caring if I made any sound at this point, and bolted toward the back door. My boots slid on the ground as I reached it, and a thick and terrible ache filled my chest. It was fear, hot and terrifying. I was the Avatar; I was the person who was supposed to help the other nations end the war before it got worse.

I wasn't even sixteen yet.

"No…please…" I sobbed, tears freezing on my face as I ran up the path leading to the healing huts. I didn't bother wiping the tears away, because I knew that no matter what I did, more would replace them. The air was icy and unforgiving, but I was too scared to notice it. Snowflakes settled into my hair and melted on my face, creating a light sheen of water where there should have been dry skin.

The desire to call water up to my hands and quicken my journey was strong, but as I had been doing my entire life, I resisted the urge. But this time, it wasn't because I was scared of other people finding out. It was because of this lingering feeling that if I Waterbent, I would be confirming within myself the power I held. My father had said it himself – I was unusually gifted at Waterbending. Now I knew why.

The healing huts rose, familiar and strong, out of the snowfall, and I ducked into Ulia's without thinking. The interior was dim, and the cushions were neatly stacked against the corner. The center podium was bereft of the usual manikin, and a small pot of water rested beside it.

The hut wasn't very warm, but it was more confined, and that in of itself created some sort of heat. I fell to my knees the moment the door flap closed behind me, and my shoulders hunched inward as I let out a strangled cry.

"I'm not the Avatar…I'm not…" I moaned, rocking back and forth.

As if saying it would somehow make it true.


End file.
